Chapter Four

"I could eat you up, my little Fraulein."

She had looked delicious. Adorable in her simple blue dress, her cheeks flushed and coppery hair askew, arms thrown wide as though she might welcome his embrace. As though they were not just talking about a puppet show. For one very long moment, he got lost in her wide blue gaze. He wanted to linger there forever.

He could practically taste her.

"I could eat you up," the words had formed on his lips, and for one panicked moment, Georg feared he'd spoken them aloud, had let them fly out into the gilded ballroom. But apparently, he still had some, if tenuous, control over his actions. Enough control that he'd gathered his wits and escorted Elsa from the ballroom, and parried with Max over his ridiculous plan to turn his family into some kind of spectacle.

In the end, it had been only a moment, after all, one moment in a charmed evening. He hadn't held a guitar in years, and was surprised at how quickly and easily the song had come back to him. The last time he'd sung that duet with Liesl, she'd been a girl in pigtails.

Georg pushed away that regret. All he could do now was make up for those lost years, he told himself, taking another breath of the cool night air. A carpet of glittering stars arched over the lake. This nighttime view from the terrace had never failed to bring him solace. Charmed evening or no, he needed a few quiet moments to gather his thoughts, to assess the situation.

The little governess first. He was mortified – horrified - to find himself responding to her in this fashion. She was living under his protection while on loan from Nonnberg Abbey, for God's sake. And she was exactly the kind of virginal young girl, barely older than Liesl , that he had no interest in. But even if he tried to ignore the spark that had passed between them tonight, there was the question of the schoolgirl crush she apparently had on him.

Take yesterday. "I made these for you," Fraulein Maria had said shyly, offering him a plate of almond cookies just like his grandmother's. She'd heard him complain that Cook would have nothing to do with the "Italian" treats from his childhood. A man like Georg knew how to put a quick, decisive end to this kind of crush - he'd been doing it since he was Liesl's age. But he couldn't bring himself to distance himself from her, feeling almost superstitious about the magical spell she'd cast over his family.

After their argument by the lake, somehow, the wind had shifted and things were sailing along smoothly at the villa. Fraulein Maria had figured out that music would bring together a fumbling father and his unruly children, but that was only the beginning. Every one of her suggestions was spot on.

"Louisa longs to ride horseback, Captain, but she's afraid of jumping and is too embarrassed to admit it to you."

"Imagine how proud the boys would be if you personally taught them to sail, Captain."

"Brigitta would benefit so much from your suggestions about what to read next. She'd devour anything you put in front of her, Captain."

There was almost an echo of Agathe to it - no, it wasn't anything like that. But the little governess was funny and earnest and her unflagging optimism was a refreshing antidote to the crumbling world he saw all around him.

He'd been a coward, he could see that now, running away from his family for fear he could not bear their mother's absence. When in fact, being near his children seemed to lift his spirits. Perhaps it was just the passage of time, four years now, but Agathe rested more easily in his heart, at least here in Aigen where he could see her in Louisa's smile, in Liesl's eyes. He'd forgotten how physical fatherhood could be: Marta's sticky hands plumbing his pockets for treats. Kurt barreling head-on into his father's belly in enthusiastic greeting. Liesl tolerating his clumsy attempts to teach her the waltz.

Fraulein Maria and Elsa didn't have much in common with Agathe. Or each other. But seeing his life through their eyes: the whistles and marching, the bad-tempered father, the strict routines, seven tree-climbing soaking wet children dressed in rags – he had seen that it was time to make changes, and somehow, the approval of these two women, different as they were from each other, mattered to him.

He sighed deeply and turned his thoughts to Elsa. Elsa, who was gamely making an effort to fit into life at the villa, which was turning out to be a challenge, since she didn't like water or horses or mountain hikes. Elsa preferred to spend her days shopping and her nights being entertained in Salzburg. She was still having trouble keeping the younger children's names straight or finding much to talk about with any of them besides Liesl, who adored her. He appreciated Elsa's ready apologies for these shortcomings, and always rushed to reassure her that he didn't expect her to change into someone she could never be. He had no right to expect that from her; she'd been the one to ask him from the beginning if their friendship was enough to build a marriage on, and he was determined to show her it could be.

"There you are!" Elsa startled him with her sudden appearance by his side, as though she'd been reading his mind. "Georg. About the party. I'm sorry to have sprung the idea on you in front of your children. I should have spoken to you privately."

"No, no," he reassured her. "It's a fine idea." Planning this party would give Elsa something to do for the next few weeks , something she'd enjoy far more than their usual rustic activities. "I should have thought of it myself, Elsa. We haven't done enough to make you feel welcome, and you've been such a good sport about everything. I'm sure we can put together a suitable guest list, even if …"

"Even if what, Georg?"

He shook his head. "That messenger boy isn't the only one. I'd been away from home so much, I hadn't realized how things had changed. The Salzburg I knew is disappearing. The neighbors – there's a lot of support for the Nazis here in Aigen. I'm not sure I'll find a friend at this party."

"Georg. I know there's a lot on your mind. We don't have to do this."

Georg studied her face carefully. He was certain that Elsa had observed the undercurrent between him and the young Fraulein. He reminded himself that he had brought this woman into his home, firmly determined to convince her to become his wife. Somehow, things had gotten off track. Up until now she'd asked him for nothing. This party might be just the thing to show Elsa that their lives could be woven together smoothly.

"No, Elsa. Let's go ahead with the party, definitely. We might even consider announcing our engagement. What do you say to that?"

There was a long, awkward silence. "I don't know, Georg. Perhaps. Let me think about it." She reached up to kiss his cheek, an obvious effort at an apology, but the gesture reminded him of the passion that had flared between the two of them in Vienna. Kept apart here at the villa, no wonder things were strained between them.

Elsa's dark eyes glowed in the moonlight and his fingers suddenly itched to smooth the blond tendril that had escaped and curled softly against her neck. Out here, with her warm fragrant body close by, and his children and governess safely out of sight, he could easily recall with certainty that marriage to Elsa Schraeder was the next best step for him and his family. The situation with the little governess was irrelevant. A minor distraction at best.

Why, he asked himself, was he thinking of his governess at a time like this? Growling with frustration, he grabbed Elsa by the shoulders and hauled her lithe body against his, not even pausing to take a breath before crushing his mouth to hers. She gave a little cry of surprise, but quickly melted against him as she responded to his kiss.

Georg kissed her with ferocious abandon until she pulled away from him to catch her breath, turning away to look out at the lake. His mind raced: perhaps there was a way for them to be together, he thought. No one would be the wiser if he showed her the stairway that led from his study to the master suite, no one except the servants who were unfailingly discreet. The children need never know. Nor would their governess.

For some reason, the thought drew his eyes upward to a sight that stopped him cold: Fraulein Maria suddenly appeared in her bedroom window. She folded her arms on the window sill and rested her chin in her hands, looking out over the lake. Had she seen him kissing Elsa? And why should he care if she did? There was nothing to be ashamed of. He was obviously courting the woman, and they'd both been married before. With that innocent sprinkling of freckles on her face, the little fraulein probably had never even been kissed! Although there was something in her voice when she implored him to take the guitar – "Please?" with the rest of her request left to his overheated imagination. And there was no mistaking the slow smolder in her eyes as she watched him sing…

Georg turned blindly, reaching for Elsa, but it was no use. His mood was broken.

Looking slightly dazed, Elsa whispered, "That was – lovely. And unexpected. Now what?"

"That depends, Elsa. Do you have an answer for me? To my proposal?"

She looked down at the ground. "Soon, Georg. I promise. But not tonight."

His reply was harsher than he intended. "It had better be soon, Elsa. I need an answer from you very soon." Georg turned abruptly on his heel and left her alone, on the terrace, under the stars.

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Elsa closed the bedroom door behind her and took a deep breath. She'd mishandled the situation with the young nun-turned-governess. But then again, this whole party had been a mistake. She should have known that from the moment Georg agreed to the idea, when she'd seen the guilt and pity in his eyes. She could practically hear him think it: at last, a way to keep Elsa occupied.

After feeling out of her element all summer, this party was Elsa's best shot at convincing him – convincing both of them, for God's sake – that their lives could fit together neatly. Georg was the one who had started it all, who had asked her to marry him, who had invited her into his home. But tonight, he'd left her standing on the sidelines, humiliated, while he was wrapped in a tender embrace with his governess. Oh, she knew it was just part of a folk dance. Georg might not be much for the waltz, but he knew his folk dances, apparently.

What bothered her more than anything was the way she'd overreacted. This was not the kind of person Elsa wanted to be, and she'd be haunted for a good long while by the anguished way Fraulein Maria had blushed and stammered at the mere suggestion of impropriety. Elsa had already needled the girl, the night of that ridiculous puppet show, and it really hadn't been necessary to push so hard, to confuse her by talking about love when it was really only about sex.

And it wasn't Fraulein Maria's fault, after all, not really. The girl had been little more than an annoyance, flirting with Georg from the very beginning of the summer. And who could blame her? She was just a dreamy-eyed youngster dazzled in the presence of a handsome war hero twice her age. Soon enough, she'd disappear behind the convent walls for good.

Elsa had less sympathy for Georg, who'd encouraged his governess' infatuation with him when, by rights, he should have put a quick end to it. Could a man who'd been celebrated for bravery really be naïve enough to have been rattled by a simple mountain girl? Ever since the children's puppet show, Elsa had watched him carefully, and she knew his fascination with his governess wasn't serious. He'd made that clear on the terrace that night, when he'd overwhelmed her with passionate kisses, like he had something to prove to both of them. And not ten minutes after she'd found them entwined on the terrace this evening, he'd brushed the girl off without a second thought. It was nothing for Elsa to worry about.

Suddenly, she was struck by a horrifying possibility: was this what being married to Georg would be like? Erich would never have carried on in this fashion. He had eyes for no one but Elsa, and she knew the same had been true for Georg and Agathe. But those marriages had been based on love. Perhaps the ground rules were different in a marriage like the one Georg had proposed to her. Elsa had come to accept that people like her and Georg would never find another boundless, perfect love; she understood she wouldn't have his soul, but was she going to have to share the rest of him?

She pressed her fingers into her weary eyes, wondering once again how she had gotten herself into this situation. Before she'd even been sure what she hoped for from Georg, the life she might have made with him seemed to be slipping away. In its place was a life full of children and folk-singing after dinner, a life with a man she barely understood at times, a life she hadn't envisioned during the two long, sweet nights in Vienna when they'd made love until dawn.

During those two astonishing, unforgettable nights, desire had driven all her doubts away, and in the shelter of his arms, anything had seemed possible. Suddenly Elsa ached to be in Georg's bed once again. She wanted his eyes locked with hers, just as they'd been at the height of their passion. She wanted the dark rumble of his voice to urge her on, his lips grazing her skin. If only she could find her way back to the Georg she knew in Vienna, she could work everything else out. It would all be worthwhile. Elsa was sure of it.

The yearning drove her down the stairs, across the foyer and into the ballroom. She gulped down a glass of champagne for courage, bantering with Max while her eyes scanned the room until she found Georg. She moved slowly toward him, trying her best to appear composed and in control as she reached for him. Relief washed over her as he took her in his arms and moved her into the waltz.

"Georg?"

"Hm?" He was distracted, his mind elsewhere. He stepped on her toe. "Sorry, Elsa darling. You know me and the waltz. You were saying?"

"Yes."

"I beg your pardon, Elsa?"

She raised her voice just as the music ended, and all around them, guests turned their heads as she gave him her answer at last.

"Yes, Georg. I'll marry you."

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I'm having fun assembling this story and I hope you're having fun reading it. Please leave me a review! And thanks for your reviews, follows and favorites so far. When I get to the end, I'll have more to say about the various ways I have and haven't challenged the TSOM canon. Meanwhile, I don't own TSOM or anything about it. A special thanks to hatoff for the secret stairs to the bedroom. For stairs that have never been used, they come in handy!